Not Just an Ordinary Trip to Muhar
by RedHarlequin
Summary: A group of desert nomads from the domain of Pharazia travelling to the domain of Har'Akir to sell their wears have anything but a normal journey. Second in my Carnival timeline stories.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the second piece I wrote for the Ravenloft Carnival setting (even though it doesn't start there) for the Ravenloft websites Netbooks. This is all story. This, like all are stand alone pieces. This is just the second in the timeline of my Carnival stories. The first was Carnival, Boss Canvas Man.

Disclaimer: Ravenloft and it's supplements aren't mine. Any references to any of the characters, places and settings are solely the property of TSR, except where specified.

Not Just an Ordinary Trip to Muhar

The clear night sky was dotted with stars. No fire burned to sate the chill in the cold desert night air, for fear _he_ would find them. _He_, Diamabel, flew through the night sky in his demonic form. The caravan, not wishing to attract his attention, camped near the western border of Pharazia by Sebua. They planned to enter Sebua tomorrow at daybreak, travel across to the oasis in Anhalla the ruined city; gather water, legumes and vegetables that grow along the oasis banks. Then they would depart quickly traversing the pass in the massive rock formation that marks the western border of Sebua; and on into Har'Akir to sell their wares. For this was how the caravan traveled when Muradin Rashaan, third son of Sheikh Allahn el Rashaan, led the caravan. Muradin had no patience. That was why most in the caravan did not like him, rush, rush, rush. Even when the sheikh told him to wait. He barely left them time to rest. His impatience would be the death of him, or of others trying to save him. Although he was an excellent fighter, fearless in battle, he hated to sit around and wait. Why the sheikh sent him with the caravan no one knew. Muradin was always in such a rush to get back, that they usually didn't get the best prices for their wares in the Muhar marketplace. But this time the sheikh warned him that if he did not get as good a price as the last caravan, he would be very angry. And no one wanted to make Sheikh Rashaan angry.

Ahmed, on the other hand, had enough patience for both of them. He liked to take his time, enjoy things. When in battle he would hesitate, seeking a weakness in his enemies, before attacking. Some believed he was a coward, some believed him lazy, some believed he just didn't like to fight, some believed he just preferred to make the least amount of effort. Whatever it was, it was effective.

Ahmed stood in the center of the dark camp, looking up into the night sky at the stars. He tried to connect the dots of light in his head to make pictures. He knew he should go to his tent and sleep, for his cousin Muradin was a hard taskmaster. But Ahmed couldn't help but enjoy the night. He preferred to sleep under the stars, instead of the tent. Ahmed has been a member of nearly every caravan that has traveled to Har'Akir. He loved to travel, more so than the others in the nomadic tribe he called his family. He enjoyed meeting new people, seeing new things, experiencing new sensations. Or was this just his desire to find a place. He wasn't sure. He always felt there was somewhere else he should be. For although he called these people family, he never really felt like he was truly a part of them. Partly because they always whispered he had tainted blood. Never to his face of course. They whispered that his father was an outsider, one from beyond the borders of Pharazia, beyond the Amber Wastes. When he would ask, no one would talk about it, telling him it was nonsense, don't think of such things. And since his mother, sister-in-law to the sheikh and widowed before he was born, died when he was five, he could not ask her. His uncle, the sheikh, promised to talk about it someday, when he was ready. Ahmed, who just celebrated his 28th birthday this past summer, if you can say a desert has a summer that is, wondered if he would ever be ready.

Despite the cool night air, something other than the stars kept him awake. He felt anxious, like something was going to happen on this trip, though he didn't know what. It wasn't a bad feeling, just something new, something different, something exciting. But all that would have to wait, for he realized he could no longer feel his fingers and toes. He had been standing in the cold desert night so long they had gone numb. He whistled once and a small bird flew quickly up to him and landed on his shoulder. It was an owl with talons twice the size of normal owls. He tore his eyes away from the heavens and wrapped his jellaba over his aba, tightly around him. The aba is the traditional desert robe. He strode to his tent for sleep. Ahmed also wore a turban with a long piece hanging in the back.

But sleep would not come easily for Ahmed. He dreamt of strange people with painted faces playing strange music that spoke to his soul, and a child that followed him like a shadow.

Ahmed awoke to the sound of an argument. He emerged into the bright light of the noonday sun to see an argument between Muradin and an older man. Muradin was angry he wasn't woken in time to leave at sunrise. The older man, Rashid, an experienced warrior, who had fought many battles with the sheikh, argued that several camels had gone missing in the night and it took them this long to find them. Muradin said they should have left without them, no matter how much of the wares would have to be carried by the people in the caravan. Rashid, and several other older men and women, more experienced with the caravans, said it was impractical and could possibly be dangerous. They could end up having to buy horses in Muhar to replace the camels. One of the women, Amsha, mentioned that the sheikh would not be pleased by this. Which was the only thing that quieted Muradin.

The camels had been found and were being inspected as they spoke. Muradin barked orders to pack up camp and be ready to leave as soon as the camels were ready. Muradin stormed off to his tent.

Ahmed went to ask Amsha what had happened. Since he had been up late and noticed nothing.

"The camels were there when Jamal took over the last shift of the night, but noticed them missing midway through. He woke several others and they went searching for them immediately. They had only just returned. Their restraints were cut."

"Cut? How could that be?"

"Two of the slaves we're transporting to be sold in Muhar are also missing. We have not told Muradin this."

"Knowing him, he will torture the remaining slaves to find out what happened. Then kill them for his trouble," Ahmed said of his cousin.

"Yes," Amsha replied. "The slaves have already been questioned by Karim. His spells failed to uncover any knowledge of the two that are missing." She smiled at Ahmed. "It gave us a little more time to rest. And you as well." She tugged at Ahmed's jellaba, which he still wore over his aba.

Realizing this he blushed. He noticed just how hot it was. Amsha wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief she carried in the pocket of her aba. Amsha also wore a black aba, like all the desert dwellers, tied by a black sash. She did wear a black keffiyeh, the traditional headcloth worn by most men and women, tied with a brown agal, a cord designed to hold the keffiyeh snugly to the head, although her shoulder-length black hair was loose and could be seen beneath the keffiyeh, and she wore no veil. Her olive-tan skin glistened in the sun. Amsha was about ten years older than Ahmed. She handed the handkerchief to Ahmed.

"Why don't you hang on to this and go get out of the jellaba before you melt. I'll get it back tonight. If you'd like?" She smiled seductively at him, brushed his goatee, and walked away. Ahmed could hear the anklet she wore on her left ankle jingling as she left.

He walked back to his tent and removed the jellaba, putting it in his pack. His aba beneath was rumpled. He removed it revealing pants and boots beneath, and then brushed it to try to get some of the wrinkles out. He took a towel out of his pack and wiped the sweat off his muscled, dusky bronze chest. Then he replaced the towel and put the aba back on. He put the handkerchief in his pocket. Then thought about Amsha while he packed his things up and took down his tent. This would not be the first time she visited him. Amsha was a widow, her husband died six years ago. This and her being a skilled warrior gave her a bit more leniency with her affections. She made it very clear she had no intention to remarry. She had done her duty, married and had two children. Although neither of her children lived past five years. And a problem during the birth of her second child made her unable to have any more children. This made her less desirable as a potential wife.

Ahmed being unmarried, made him perfect. He also did not wish to marry. Though he doubted any woman in the tribe would want to marry him, including Amsha. His uncle never talked to him about any arrangements. His cousins, male and female, including Muradin, were all married by the age of 21.

First Ahmed put the bit and bridle into the camel's mouth. Then he put the leather camel apron in front of the camel's hump that hung over the mount's sides, nearly reaching its knees. Then he placed a soft wool saddle blanket behind the apron. After the blanket came the packsaddle, a _terke_, a cagelike construction of horizontal bars which he put in front of the hump on the blanket. The terke would allow him to guide the camel with his legs and feet. Then he put his large leather saddlebags that hung on either side the camel's back. He put the camel stick made of hardwood into the terke which he would use to motivate the camel should it become uncooperative. He hung a leather bag filled with dates, treats for the camel on the long trek. Leather is the best material for keeping the dates fresh. Before placing his camel grooming kit into its place in the pack, he inspected its contents, a brush with stiff bristles, a metal hoof pick, and a wool massage cloth. Then he placed two _thilaithi_, a camel skin water bag which holds 2 gallons of water, over the saddlebags. Then he placed the rug and pillow he sits on in his tent atop the camel's hump, and strapped it down with two thick leather straps with a wide piece of material that went comfortably under the camel's waist. He then placed his tent on one side of the hump and his bedroll on the other side. He checked that the rigging was snug yet unrestricting under the securing straps of the harness, before tightening the securing straps. The desert camel can carry 400 to 520 pounds, rider included, without significant stress. His camel, Naheer, would carry less weight than this.

Shouting brought Ahmed from his tasks and out of his thoughts. And Muradin's voice made him shudder. Muradin wanted to leave, now. No more delays. He was calling for everyone to mount up. Ahmed thought, Muradin's impatience was mounting as well, and laughed to himself as he put the last of his belongings on the camel. Ahmed whistled and an owl emerged from the sand by where his tent had been and flew up and landed in his terke nestling into the small pillow. The burrowing owl had golden-feathers.

It only took a few minutes for everyone to finish packing up and start out. Amsha brought her desert camel, which carried her belongings, over to him to lead, as she rode her war camel, a special breed developed by culling the strongest males from desert camel herds and crossing them with the swiftest females. The war camel is self-assured, courageous, and responsive, and relishes warfare, snapping at an opponent with its teeth, and rearing to pummel with its forelegs. War camels are lean and cannot carry as much weight as desert camels.

It would take most of the afternoon to reach Anhalla, the ruined city, provided there were no setbacks.

But setbacks were what was in store for the caravan. Scorching heat beat down on the caravan despite storm clouds, that had grown overhead all morning, which watched menacingly as the sky turned green then dark unleashing a vicious sandstorm which came out of the endless wastes. Most of the dozen scouts, who ride 10 to 20 miles ahead of the caravan, returned to weather the storm near the caravan. The 45 warriors and armed guards, which Amsha was one, which ride ahead, behind, and on either side of the caravan to provide protection from deadly creatures, also came close to the caravan to protect themselves. The caravan travelers covered themselves and waited for the storm to blow over. Amsha and Ahmed huddled beneath the same blanket. Amsha's two camels and Ahmed's one huddled next to them waiting for the storm to pass. And the owl burrowed into the sand.

After the storm passed, they could not find one of the scouts who had not returned to the caravan. His camel was lying near where he should have been covered by a blanket. Not even the caravan's wizards could locate him. Also, two pack camels with rice were missing, as was several more slaves. The wizards and remaining scouts hunted for them for an hour before Muradin ordered the search abandoned. While the scouts and wizards searched, several in the caravan dug up several _ab'i_ tubers. These tubers usually lie about 3 feet below the desert surface, they appear as smooth blood red stones. The edible tuber is as big as a camel's hump, and is filled with a half-gallon of cloudy water. The water is squeezed from the tuber over a container. But these were merely bagged and packed onto the camels, for later. While they dug up one of the tubers, they disturbed a nest of seven burrowing owls that slept 4 feet beneath the surface of the sand. These owls looked just like the one Ahmed was now hidden in the pillow of his terke. The owls emerged and attacked the group excavating the ab'i tuber with their large talons. Ahmed's owl emerged from the pillow and screeched at the seven owls, before burying it's head back into the pillow. This was enough of a distraction for the group to overcome the owls, killing three before the remaining four flew away.

Before reaching Anhalla, the storm clouds finally burst, covering the desert and the caravan in a torrential rainstorm, nearly washing them away before sinking into the desert. The rain, however, did cool the remainder of the daylight hours.

It took all afternoon to reach the oasis in Anhalla with its chunks of foundation the only reminder of the vast glory the city once was. There wasn't much time before sunset to make camp near the oasis and far from the magnificent walled estate near the outskirts of the city. Although the estate was presently silent, the members of the caravan knew all too well, anyone who investigated this estate and the sounds of merriment that came from over its tall walls never returned. Everyone pitched tents, set guards, gave instructions not to wander from the safety of camp. No one saw anything, or anyone, but they knew the wild children of Anhalla were near. They camped away from the pitiful mud dwellings the wild children lived in. They usually kept to the dark recesses of the ruins. They never made contact. Baboons and monkeys could be heard darting through the ruins, although they were strangely quiet. However, the entire time, everyone felt they were being watched and not by the baboons, monkeys, or the wild children.

Everyone was on orders not to leave camp, or leave their tent if at all possible. There would be four people on watch at all times. Ahmed was on the last watch. When he was awoken for his shift, he emerged from his tent to see a clear virtually starless sky lit by an orange moon. The moon bathed the ruins in an amber glow that made Ahmed feel uneasy. There was little sound to the night. A few bugs chirped and the wind blew. This made Ahmed feel even more uneasy. He had a bad feeling about his night.

"The baboons have made no move toward the camp," the man whispered. "But you can hear them moving about in the ruins, at least we hope it's them. Rashid is in charge of your shift. He's at the eastern side of the camp by the arch."

"Thank you," Ahmed whispered. "Try to get some sleep." Ahmed put his scimitar and his jambiya in his sash. He whistled twice and waited until his owl came and landed on his shoulder. Then he went to meet Rashid and the other two on guard duty.

"There is movement in the ruins but no move on the camp," Rashid began quietly. "This isn't usual for the baboons and monkeys. We will circle the camp, keeping each other in sight at all times. Anything other than that movement, or if you lose sight of one of one of us, alert the others."

The shift was quiet, too quiet, and nearly over. Dawn was in two hours. One of the men on guard heard a noise in the ruins near the remains of a building. He couldn't make it out. He made a noise to draw the attention of Rashid, who was behind him. He motioned to the ruins. Rashid whistled catching the other guard's attentions. Then Rashid walked to the man and they whispered quietly. The man then walked slowly toward where he heard the noise. Ahmed sent his owl to land on Rashid's shoulder then follow after the other guard. The owl landed on Rashid's shoulder as instructed, startling him. He looked at the owl that flew off after the guard. Rashid then looked at Ahmed and nodded his approval. The three waited, quietly, looking all around. The man stepped into the ruins then was lost in the shadows. The owl followed into the shadows. A moment later they all heard the owl screech loudly.

"Ahmed," Rashid called waving him to follow. "Wake the others," Rashid called to the remaining guard.

Rashid and Ahmed ran to the ruins. It was dark in the shadows, but they saw what appeared to be a scantily clad woman leaning over the guard's prone figure and another dark figure a few feet away. Her long dark hair obscured most of the guard's body but she wore a long glistening headpiece on her head that reached to her shoulders. With her left hand she was swatting at the owl diving at her. She growled in frustration.

"Stop!" Rashid shouted. "Let him go!"

The woman turned. From what they could see in the dark, her mouth and chin were darker than the rest of her face. And she held something in her right hand, a large, dark, round object twice as large as her hand. It seemed to drip, for there was a dark spot on the ground beneath her hand. She growled at the men. She put the object to her mouth and appeared to eat it, then stood and ran from the ruins away from the men.

"Check him," Rashid ordered, then followed the woman. Four men carrying swords shouted at her to stop as they ran toward her. She looked at them and three of the men stopped in their tracks. Rashid overtook her and swung his sword at her. He missed and she reached out and touched his chest. He fell to the ground screaming clutching his chest. Two more men ran toward her from the camp, moving in front of her to cut her off. She hesitated looking at them, but they continued moving toward her. The three men closed on her. Instead of trying to avoid the men, she turned toward the single man that pursued her. She closed the distance and made a grab for him when he came within reach. She grabbed the man's throat and he screamed, dropping his weapon and grabbing her arm to get her to release him. She looked over her shoulder to see where the other two men were.

She called into the night.

Several men and women emerged from their tents, weapons drawn. But before any could close on the woman, twelve figures shuffled from the shadows in all directions entering camp. One of the men muttered something and a bright light illuminated the area. The twelve figures she called were humanoids covered in bandages from head to toe. At the sight of these bandaged figures, half the men were overcome with fear and collapsed to the ground. Several more armed people emerged from their tents.

"Don't let the creatures touch you," shouted one of the women, "they spread disease."

The people standing turned toward the approaching creatures. With this distraction, the woman dropped the man in her grip and ran into the ruins out of sight. The man lay in a heap on the ground.

The men and women attacked the bandaged figures with their swords. The creatures swung at the people with both hands. But with every blow the men and women delivered, the damage seemed minimal. One of the creatures hit a man in the chest who flew back ten feet. The creatures fought with little conviction and began to disperse now that the woman was gone.

One of the women lit a torch and moved toward one of the creatures. She swung at it until she hit it with the fire. It burst into flames.

"Fire," she screamed. "Use fire on them." It continued to swing its hands at her, despite the flames consuming it.

The men and women began to pursue the creatures.

"Stop," screamed Muradin. "Let them leave." Muradin stormed into the center of camp. "What happened?" he demanded, red-faced with anger.

Rashid gathered his weapons, strength and courage then walked toward Muradin, clutching his chest where the woman touched him. The men and women frozen began to move again and the ones on the ground had gathered their courage and were on their feet. The only man who didn't get up was the one in the woman's grip. When checked, they discovered him dead.

Rashid explained the events leading up to the incursion. Ahmed finally emerged from the ruins. He carried a small bundle in his arms. He stopped and talked to the wizard who lit the area who then ran into the ruins with another person. Ahmed walked up to Rashid and Muradin.

"What's that?" Muradin spat.

"This is what took Karim into the ruins," Ahmed explained. "It's a wild child. It looked like the woman had been attacking the child when Karim disturbed her. She had discarded the child and went for Karim."

"And what of Karim?" Muradin asked angrily. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"That might be impossible," Ahmed said.

"Why?" Muradin spat.

"Karim is dead. I asked Jarem to check and see how Karim died and if there is anything he can do. There are no apparent wounds on him. May I tend to the child?"

"I don't care," Muradin growled. "But you are responsible for it."

"Her," Ahmed corrected.

"What?" Muradin spat.

"'It' is a girl."

"I don't care what it is. It cost us two men and who knows what else." Muradin turned his back on Ahmed and walked away. "Be ready to leave an hour after dawn," Muradin shouted to the camp.

Ahmed asked one of the women to come to his tent with him and check the child over. She cast a spell and a torch appeared. As Ahmed began to lay the child on his bedroll, the woman stopped him.

"It probably has lice. Do you want that in your bedroll?" she said.

"She," Ahmed emphasized. "Farah, I will sleep on the ground." He laid the child down. He took one of his thilaithi water skins and pored some into a wooden bowl. Then took a rag and made it wet. Farah checked the child over.

"It seems alright." Ahmed gave her an angry look. "She," Farah corrected.

"Thank you Farah," he said in a dismissive tone.

She got up and left his tent.

Ahmed closed the flaps of his tent and secured them. He brushed the girls mat of black hair back from her face. He took the rag and began to wipe the girl's filthy face off. She stirred. Ahmed cast a spell. And a cup floated out of his pack and filled with water. Opening her eyes the girl let out a yelp and moved away. Ahmed cast another spell and spoke to her, "I won't hurt you." She calmed a little. "My name is Ahmed."

Ahmed took the cup from the air held it out to her. "It's water," Ahmed said.

She hesitated. Thinking she didn't trust him, he took a drink from the cup and held it out again. She took the cup and sniffed at the contents. When she was satisfied it was alright, she took a drink. A small pouch floated from his pack. He took it from the air and opened it. He pored the contents onto the bedroll, beans, peas, and figs. He took one of each and ate them.

"What happened in the ruins? With the woman?" He tried not to speak to her like a child. Just because she looked like ine, didn't mean she was one. The wild children of Sebua looked like children, but they always looked like children. They never seem to age, never seem to have any adults, teens, elders. This may be the largest they ever get. And this was the first time anyone got a really good look at one.

She looked at him curiously. "When I found you, you were unconscious on the ground and the woman was over the man with something in her hand. What happened? Do you know?"

"Monkey," she chittered.

"'Monkey'? What monkey? There was no monkey when I got there."

"Her."

"I don't understand." He shook his head.

"Her, monkey."

"She had a monkey with her?"

"Her, monkey, watch you." She fanned her hand.

"She had her monkey watch, us?"

She shook her head. "Saw her. She change. Monkey watch. She change. Woman grab. Man came. Grab man. Throw me."

"She changed into a monkey?" The girl nodded. "As a monkey she watched us? Then she grabbed you and the man came to help. She grabbed him and threw you?" The girl nodded. "You don't remember anything after she threw you?"

She shook her head. "Takes thing out." She patted her chest.

"What?"

"She takes thing out." She patted her chest again. "Red thing." She put her hands together to make a round circle. "It moves. Out, in. Big, small."

"I don't understand. She takes something out of the chest?"

She nodded. "Eats it."

He shook his head.

"Ahmed?" a man's voice said from outside his tent.

"Yes," he replied.

The flaps of his tent shook. He unsecured the flaps and opened them. Rashid stood there.

"What is it?" Ahmed asked.

Rashid leaned his head into the tent. "What has she said?"

"From what I gather, the woman was watching the camp as a monkey. The girl saw her. And the woman attacked her. That's when Karim went into the ruins. She grabbed Karim and threw the girl. But what she says now, I don't understand."

"What is she saying?"

"The woman 'takes thing out.' She pats her chest," he imitates the girl. "A 'red thing'," he makes the circle with his hand, "that moves out and in? Big and small? And something about 'eats it'. I don't understand."

"I do," he began. "Karim's heart is missing. When I went to attack her, her mouth was red and dripping. Blood. She took his heart out and ate it. Maybe the in and out, big and small means it's beating when she eats it. I'll go tell the others." He began to close the flap, then opened it again. "I forgot," he handed Ahmed a piece of white cloth. "For the girl. It's the smallest I could find. I really wish I knew who you learned magic from."

Ahmed took it as Rashid left. He looked at the cloth. It was a shirt and a black sash. He laid the clothes down and turned to the girl. The bowl of water and the rag floated over to the girl.

"Why don't you wash up a bit and put these cloths on. If you'd like to make your hair wet, I can get a comb and you can comb your hair."

She tilted her head and had a curious expression on her face.

A wooden box came floating out of his pack, opened and a mirror floated across to stop in front of her.

"Your hair is a bit messy."

"That?" she said pointing at the kit.

Ahmed leaned over and put his razor kit in front of her. He showed her everything inside, the straight razor, "this is very sharp. It could cut you. Men shave their beards." He brushed the smooth parts of his chin around his goatee. "Some men also shave their heads." Then he showed her the lather bar, "this is to make the shaving easier. When wet it makes lather, or bubbles." The horsetail brush, "this is to put the lather on the face, or scalp." The scissors, "these are to clip the hair and make it shorter, or to trim the beard. It's also rather sharp." He unwrapped his turban and showed her how short his hair was. He made a cutting motion with his fingers to show how the scissors worked then rewrapped the turban. Then he pulled out a small leather pouch, "in here is a cream to put on after you shave, to help make the face smooth and avoid razor burn. A little bit goes a long way." While he repacked his razor kit, she leaned over and touched his cheek, by his goatee. He laughed as she quickly moved back away from him. He left the mirror out. "Now, I have to go outside and help pack things up. This will give you a chance to clean up and change. I'll be back in a little while to pack up the tent. We'll be moving out after dawn."

Ahmed got up and left the tent. He went to help pack the camp up. Someone asked what he did with the girl. When he said he left her in his tent, they laughed, saying he probably won't have any belongings left when he returned. Calling him way too trusting.

When he returned to his tent, he heard noise inside. "Hello?" he said. The noise stopped. When he entered the tent what he saw surprised him. His pack had been moved over to the bedroll, the camel grooming kit was out and the brush was lying in front of her. The razor kit was open and the scissors were next to the brush. There was a pile of lather in the drinking cup and a pile of black hair was next to the cup. And she was sitting, innocently on the bedroll looking up at him with her wide almond-shaped, coffee colored eyes. Her deep bronze colored face was clean, her black hair was about two inches long and dripping wet and the sash Karim brought was half wrapped around her head and dropped to her shoulders. She wore the shirt untied, which had the sleeves cut to her wrists, the remnants lying on the bedroll next to the uneaten food.

He couldn't help but smile. But he tried not to laugh. He cast a spell. He sat down on the floor of the tent, next to his pack. He got into his pack and pulled a towel out. He slowly moved toward her, she didn't move away. He took the sash from her head and used the towel to pat her hair dry. Or dryer. He took the brush and started to brush her hair. "This is actually a brush for my camel. I'll see if I can get a brush just for you. All your own, if you'd like?" She nodded her head quickly. When he was done, he wrapped the sash around her head, like his turban. "Don't worry about not getting it the first time. It can take a while to get the hang of wrapping turbans." When he was done, he got into his pack and tried to find a cord of some kind. When he couldn't he leaned his head out of the tent and called to someone passing by who wore a keffiyeh.

"Excuse me, do you have a spare agal I could have?"

"Sure," he said and walked off.

Ahmed tried to clean up and readjust his pack when he heard a voice at the tent opening. Amsha stuck her head into the tent.

"You wanted an agal?" Seeing the mess, she snickered.

"Don't," he warned.

"Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. I remember this. But be careful, it has a tendency to occupy the rest of your life. Or at least the rest of your youth."

"Enjoying this?"

"Very much," she said entering his tent. She sat down on her knees by the girl. Her anklet jingled when she sat. "I'm Amsha," she said gently.

"I couldn't find my extra sash. And I thought an agal might fit her waist better."

Amsha wrapped the agal around the girl's waist then tied it. Then Amsha started sniffing. "What is that smell?" She leaned forward and sniffed the girl's cheeks. She smiled and snickered again. "She's wearing your shaving lotion."

"She didn't shave did she?"

Amsha lifted the girl's chin and looked at her face. "No cuts," she said. Then noticed a long scar on the girl's jaw from her left ear to her point of her chin. "At least no new ones." Amsha took off her keffiyeh. "Turn you head, Ahmed." When he did she lifted the shirt the girl was wearing and wrapped the Keffiyeh around her to make shorts. "That should do." She pulled the shirt down and brushed it out. "You better hurry here. Muradin's impatient to leave. Several of the men were touched by the creatures this morning. He wants to get to Muhar quickly, in case we need to have them healed." She brushed her hand across the girl's cheek. "I think she looks a lot like you." Amsha got a sad look on her face. She stood and moved to the tent opening.

The girl reached out and grabbed Amsha's ankle. She swung around to look at the girl, who jingled the bells on the anklet. Then she brushed the sandal with her finger.

Amsha leaned down and took the anklet off and handed it to the girl. "Better hurry and pack up." Then she left.

The girl wrapped the anklet around her ankle. It was too big. Ahmed took the anklet and wrapped it twice around her ankle. It didn't fit, not long enough to wrap twice. He closed the clasp on one of the links, then on the last link. It made a loop at the end. The girl played with the bells.

Ahmed packed up his things and started taking everything out of the tent. "You'll have to come out now. I need to take the tent down."

The girl came out, shaking her foot to make the bells jingle as she walked. Ahmed took down the tent and began packing his camel. Amsha brought her camels over to Ahmed. Ahmed finished packing his camel. Muradin called to move out. Amsha mounted her war camel and moved off. Muradin tied her pack camel to his camel. He cast a spell.

"We're leaving now," he said to the girl. He whistled. After a moment his owl flew up to him and flew into the saddle and nestled into the pillow.

The girl looked around at the people as they mounted their camels. She looked at Ahmed and pointed to his camel.

"I ride this one. We're leaving. We are on our way to the domain past the Valley of Death. We have goods to sell there." He pulled his camel down to the ground. "I guess this is good-bye. Try and stay away from the woman. No more following monkeys."

The girl looked around at the caravan. They were moving out. She looked up at Ahmed. She gave him a big hug and started to walk away, jingling the anklet. He climbed up into the saddle, reared his camel, it stood. He pulled his camel and Amsha's into line behind another man and started off. He heard a high-pitched scream behind him. He turned to see the girl run after him. He stopped the camel. She ran up to him and held her hands up to him.

"Come too," she said.

"You want to come along?"

"Come too."

"Alright, but we may not be back here for a while." He grabbed her arm and lifted her into the saddle behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, digging her hands into the folds of his aba and held on. Then she pulled her hand back and had a piece of paper in her hand. It was a strange paper. There was a picture of people on it. They had painted faces, some danced, some juggled daggers, and one carried a funny box in his hands and was covered with little creatures. She handed it to him.

"Where did you get this?"

"Here," she said pointing to his pocket.

He checked his pocket. "I wonder how that got there." He looked at the paper. "Reminds me of a dream I had once. Come to think of it, I think you were in it too." He smiled at her. "Why don't you hang on to it." She rested her head on his back and looked at the paper. He moved the two camels back into line behind the others.

A/N: This is the end of part one. I was running out of time for the deadline for the Ravenloft netbook. This seemed a good stopping point.

As for the characters in this story, Sheikh Allahn el Rashaan, Diamabel and the woman who ate the heart are not mine. They are part of Ravenloft cannon. The remaining characters are mine.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is the third piece I wrote for the Ravenloft Carnival setting for the Ravenloft websites Netbooks. This is the second part of my story of Ahmed. This was a story in a netbook of stories the Ravenloft website put out. It gave me the perfect opportunity to finish his tail.

Disclaimer: Ravenloft and it's supplements aren't mine. Any references to any of the characters, places and settings are solely the property of TSR, except where specified.

Not Just an Ordinary Trip to Muhar II:

The First Herald

The sun rose slowly in the Sebuan sky. It had not yet taken the night's chill from the air. The black robed caravan from Pharazia trekked westward toward Har'Akir leaving Anhalla far behind them. As the caravan crossed the western section of Sebua, the sand behind them left no trace of their passing. It was as if the sand was alive and purposely swallowing their tracks so they could not find their way back. This leg of the journey from Anhalla to the first mountain range was shorter then the leg from the border of Pharazia to Anhalla, but it seemed longer. They passed from trackless sand to barren, rocky flats in the blink of an eye. Then back to sand. They passed several oases. None of which they stopped at. Some looked brackish, with layers of white clouds floating on top. Others had the remains of previous travelers who discovered the hard way the perils of desert travel. As the sun grew higher in the sky, the mountains grew closer, looming angrily above them. The closer the mountains, the more uneasy the animals became. It was as if they knew there was danger waiting.

Muradin el Rashaan, third son of Sheikh Allahn el Rashaan, caravan leader, led the way, driving the caravan hard. He had lost too much time, too many setbacks. His impatience grew with the heat of the morning. Luckily, there were no obstacles to slow them down as they crossed the desert to the base of the mountains on the eastern side of the Valley of Death. It was still morning when they reached the mountains. The forward warriors were waiting. Muradin's voice could be heard throughout the caravan as he yelled his displeasure at their stopping.

"Sir, perhaps it would be best to stop and take food and water before entering the valley," Rashid, one of the older warriors, advised.

"Why!" Muradin spat.

"We will need to stop anyway, sir. And this is as good a place as any. That way we are all fresh for the journey across the Valley of Death and through the western mountains. That way we should not have to stop again until we pass into Har'Akir."

"Very well, but make it a quick stop." He turned his camel and his back to the seasoned warrior and rode toward the center of the caravan.

Amsha, a woman in her late thirties walked up to Rashid, her black keffiyeh flowing behind her. "He is too concerned with time. He'll drive us into the sand."

Two camels approached. The lead camel had a man in his late 20's with a goatee, wearing a turban, riding in a _terke_, a cagelike construction of horizontal bars. In his lap were two small, limp arms. A loud snoring sound came from behind him. The second desert camel had a pack saddle and no rider.

A broad smile moved across Amsha's face. "That's quite a trick, being able to sleep with your eyes open." Rashid laughed.

"Ha, Ha," Ahmed said.

"Couldn't bear to leave her behind?" she snickered.

"Couldn't bear to be left behind," Ahmed said. "I could use a little help getting her down."

"I'll get a blanket from my pack to put her on." Amsha walked over to her desert camel and pulled a blanket from the pack. Then spread it on the ground.

Between Ahmed and Amsha they managed to get the wild child off the camel without waking her. Then Amsha laid her on the blanket.

"You know," Rashid began, "getting her back up there without waking her will be an even better trick."

Ahmed dismounted the camel. A piece of paper floated down beside him landing on the ground by his feet.

"What's this?" Amsha asked.

"I'm not sure. She found it in my pocket when we left Anhalla."

Amsha looked at the paper. The swirling images mesmerized her. She stood staring at the paper for a long time before Ahmed roused her.

"Are you all right?" Ahmed asked.

"Yes, why?" Amsha said curious, not realizing anything had happened.

"You seemed lost."

"The images are strange. It's like magic," she surmised.

They both heard a scream and looked to see the wild child sitting up pointing at the paper. Amsha handed it to her.

"Could it be hers?"

"I don't think so. She seemed as puzzled by its appearance as I."

"We better eat quickly, Muradin is in a hurry."

"What's new?"

The caravan ate quickly, though not quick enough for Muradin. The last of the nomads had barely dismounted their camels before he called to move on.

Normally, the caravan cut east along the base of the eastern ridge. Then continue east at the southern most part of the Valley of Death and eastward through the narrowest part of the western ridge entering Har'Akir and still east to the southern road. Then follow the road north into Muhar. But Muradin had other plans.

Muradin went to the forward warriors and talked quickly to them. They were not happy with what he said. To cut off time, just after passing along the base of the eastern ridge they would travel north, northwest up the dried riverbed that once flowed up the Valley of Death to the passage on the face of the western ridge across the valley from the only temple that still stood intact in the Valley. This passage is narrow, but it emerges just south of the eastern road. This would more than double their time in the Valley of Death, but it would cut several hours off their journey. They did not like spending so much time in the Valley. The Valley's residents no longer lived. But Muradin would take no arguing.

The caravan uneasily began its trek along the southern part of the eastern ridge. The animals were uncharacteristically quiet as they moved wearily through their usual pass. They meandered along the sandstone cliffs towering 500 to 1,000 feet above them. Periodically, sand would spill from the ledges above them making a soft hissing noise as it fell. This was the only sound as the caravan progressed toward the Valley. Then they emerged into the mouth of the Valley. Before them lay the dry, red, cracked earth of the Valley of Death. They crossed the opening quickly until they reached the eastern face of the western ridge. Then they moved north along the cliff face.

Ahmed and the wild child traveled near the center of the caravan. The wild child held Ahmed tightly around the waist, her head held close to his back, as if trying to hide. When the sand rained down upon them, she would squeeze his waist tighter. Occasionally he would pat her hand, as if to say it would be all right. Even though he himself was not sure it would. He had a bad feeling. He continually looked up to the towering cliffs, as did everyone. Everyone felt as if they were being watched. Everyone except Muradin. His preoccupation with the speed of their passage blinded him to everything else. Even any possible danger.

The silence of their passing was broken by a loud rushing sound, then screams. An avalanche of sand fell on the caravan, burying several riders and camels in a nearly 50 foot high mountain of sand. The riders in front and behind it rushed to the scene, dismounted and began digging. They worked furiously to get to those buried beneath the sand. It seemed to take forever. Every time they cleared an area, more sand would slide from the top off the pile, covering the area they just cleared with fresh sand. The sand seemed endless.

Then the first man and camel on the front side of the pile emerged, gasping for air. They were quickly covered by sand. They worked faster. The man's head emerged from the sand again. He gasped again. Then the camel's head emerged, and gasped. They were pulled from the sand and moved as quickly as possible out of the way. A pile of sand quickly slid to cover the newly excavated area. The next woman and camel on the back side of the pile emerged, coughing. The sand quickly rushed to fill in the void. They dug. The woman's head emerged again, coughing. They grabbed her before the sand could rush down to cover her again. More sand fell. Then the camel's head emerged, coughing. The sand fell again. Then another woman and camel were uncovered, they neither gasped nor coughed. The sand rushed down to cover them. The diggers worked. The woman's head was uncovered again. They pulled her free. They dragged her clear as priests rushed to see what they could do. The camel's head was uncovered. It was dragged clear. More sand fell. Another person and camel, more sand, they were uncovered again. This cycle seemed to go on forever. Muradin sat perched on his camel watching, cursing his luck beneath his breath.

It took nearly two hours to uncover all the victims. The priest worked tirelessly. But despite their skills, six people and eight camels were dead. It took another hour to gather everything up, repack, take care of the dead and begin moving again. Muradin grumbled the entire time.

Everyone held their breath through the remainder of the Valley. The facades of once great tombs dotted the cliff face on both sides of the Valley. All knew not to go near these tombs. In these tombs are ugly, hairless bats with pale, translucent skin that reveals its veins. Flesh eating beetles live below the bats, eating their dung and the flesh of the dead bats. Beyond that even more unspeakable horrors awaited.

Then they saw the temple against the eastern ridge. They moved quietly, hoping not to attract any attention. Luck seemed to be with them for once. They finally reached the mountain pass. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The lead riders moved quickly into the passage. The opening was larger than they remembered. Perhaps landslides widened the opening. It made the lead riders nervous. But they knew not to stop. This would only infuriate Muradin. He would not take any more delays. The pass was wider than they remember also. But before long the pass narrowed. There was little room to move. They would have to travel in a line, single file. Most of the passage was little more than five feet wide. It looked like it would be like this through the entire pass. Although the cliffs were sandstone, little sand spilled from the top. But it was narrow, too narrow to turn around if anything were to happen, it could mean disaster for the entire caravan.

They moved quickly. It should take only about an hour for the first rider to emerge on the other side into Har'Akir. Ahmed and the wild child were still near the center of the caravan line. Everyone was still uneasy. Ahmed had a strange feeling. This feeling was different than before. It was more like anticipation, like something was to happen just around the next turn.

But luck it would seem was not with them, for just around the next turn there was a large opening in the mountain, like a small valley. It was about 1000 feet wide in diameter in almost a perfect circular pattern, with three narrow passages leading off in the three other compass directions. The lead riders were waiting. Or at least most of them were waiting. Ahmed rode up to Rashid.

"Where is Amsha?" Ahmed asked. "And what is this place?"

"I don't know," Rashid replied uneasily. "This place was not here when we traveled this passage last. Amsha's camel and the camels of the other two riders ahead of me were here when I emerged into this valley. But there was no sign of the riders."

"Perhaps it is newly emerged?"

"Or perhaps this is not the same passage."

"Muradin will not like this."

Ahmed and the wild child looked around the small valley. On the walls between each of the four passages, were four small cave-like openings looking ominously down at them. Above these openings detailed reliefs were carved in the ancient picture language commonly seen in the Valley of Death, should anyone dare to get close enough to look.

"I hope they went down the passages to see where they led and not into the tombs."

Most of the caravan had emerged into the valley, including Muradin. The valley seemed just large enough for the caravan. Rashid and Ahmed heard him curse when he did. Muradin guided his camel to them.

"What is this?" Muradin asked, not quite as angry as both men were expecting.

"I don't know sir," Rashid replied. "When I emerged into this valley the camels, of the three riders ahead of me, were here alone. I don't know anything about this valley or where the riders are."

Muradin sighed. "Well, we need to look for them," Muradin grumbled, grudgingly. "Try to track them. If that's not possible, take teams of four: two warriors, a priest and a wizard, and go down the three passages to investigate. But stay out of the tombs. We know what the tombs hold. If they've gone into the tombs, they're lost. Take no more than an hour investigating. We'll break for food and a rest while you search. If there's no sign of them in an hour," he paused uneasily, "we leave them. We'll go back the way we came and go south to the southern passage." With that, Muradin turned his camel.

When Muradin passed Ahmed, he noticed the wild child sitting behind him.

"What's that?" He spat.

"She's the wild child from Anhalla. She wanted to come along."

"If I had known, I wouldn't have allowed it to come along. But since it's here now," he paused, "it's your problem. It better not cause us any problems or slow us down." Muradin turned his back on his cousin and, riding away, motioned for the caravan to dismount.

"She," Ahmed said when Muradin was out of earshot. Rashid snickered.

"That went well," Rashid said puzzled.

"He's made some bad choices in his haste," Ahmed said dismounting his camel, "now he's paying for them. Or are we?" He then helped the girl down. He cast a spell and spoke to the child. "You do know not to go into the tombs, right?" he asked her pointing up to the caves.

"Why?" she asked.

"There a very bad thing in those tombs. Strange bats that would attack you, flesh eating beetles, traps built by men to protect what's inside, and maybe even unliving creatures there also to protect it's contents. So what ever you do, don't go into them. All right?"

"Yes."

Ahmed turned to Rashid. "I'd like to come along to look for Amsha," he paused and looked down at the girl who looked at the magical paper smiling, "but I should probably stay with her. After all, she's my problem. And taking her along wouldn't be a good idea."

"Easier to keep an eye on her if she's sitting still."

"True," Ahmed said.

Rashid went to talk to others about hunting for the three missing people.

Ahmed pulled a bag from his camel, Naheer. In it was a blanket he laid on the ground, a pouch with beans, peas, and figs and a waterskin. He also took a plate and two cups from the pack. He pored the food onto the plate and water into the cups, then handed one of the cups to the girl.

They sat down to eat while three teams went down the three passageways, north, south, and west. Rashid stopped as he passed. Naheer lay on the ground next to them, as did both of Amsha's camels.

"There are no tracks, so we have to search the passages. I'll let you know what we find. I'm headed down the second passage." Rashid pointed to the northern passageway.

"Thank you," Ahmed said.

Ahmed ate very little. The girl ate absentmindedly as she looked at the paper seemingly lost to everything else around her.

After about twenty minutes the first team from the western passageway returned. They went to talk to Muradin. Ahmed stood. He could not hear what the men said. He took a step as if to go ask them what they found. Then looked down to the girl next to him and decided against it. Instead, when the men were through talking to Muradin, he called one of them over.

"What did you find?" Ahmed asked.

"There was no trace of them. The passage leads down five hundred feet. At the end of the passage is another tomb."

"Thank you." Ahmed sat back down and continued eating.

After about twenty more minutes a second team from the passage to the south returned. They walked past Ahmed to go to Muradin. Ahmed stood.

"What was down the passage?" Ahmed asked.

"No trace of them. It was a dead end. At the end of a thousand foot passage is nothing but a tomb," the woman said.

Ahmed thanked her and she continued on to Muradin.

Ahmed sat down next to the girl.

The hour was almost up when Rashid returned alone from the norther passage. As he passed Ahmed on his way to Muradin he paused only a moment. "We found their tracks." Then continued on.

He relayed the message to Muradin, who seemed pleased for once on this trek. On his way back he stopped a moment.

"What did you find?" Ahmed stood excited.

"At about fifteen hundred feet down the passage we found their tracks. It was as if something had erased their tracks up until then. They seemed to just appear. But it is them, Jarem is sure of it, one of his spells. I must get back."

"Wait, did Muradin tell you what the others found?"

"No."

"The two passages had a tomb at the end. The western passage was five hundred feet long. The southern was a thousand feet long."

"Maybe there's a pattern here. Thank you." With that he went back down the passage.

The wild child grabbed Ahmed's aba and tugged on it to get his attention. When he looked down to her, she pointed after Rashid. Ahmed cast the spell as he sat down.

"They found traces of the three people that went missing. So we'll be staying a while longer as they search further for them."

"Woman?" she said jingling the bells on the anklet Amsha gave her.

"Yes, my friend Amsha is one of the people missing."

She pointed to the camels next to them. "Hers?" she asked.

"Yes, the other two camels are hers."

She pointed to Ahmed's chest. "Hers too."

"What?" Ahmed said surprised. "I'm not hers. We aren't married."

She pointed to Ahmed's chest again. "Hers," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I do care about her."

"Hers," she said shaking her head and placed her hand on Ahmed's chest, over his heart. "Hers!"

Ahmed smiled. "I guess you have been paying attention to more than just the paper haven't you?"

She smiled at him.

Just then a loud roaring sound came from the southern passage. Everyone looked as sand came flying from the passage carried by a powerful wind. The wind whipped through the valley sending everything flying in a whirlwind of sand and air. Everyone covered their faces, grabbed what they could and hit the ground. The wind whipped around the valley several times before returning down the passage it came from leaving the camp in a horrible mess.

Ahmed looked up and noticed the girl was gone. Then he heard a jingling sound and saw her disappear down the passage after the wind. Her hands were outstretched and she was screaming something.

"Picture!"

Ahmed knew instantly what happened. The wind took the paper from the girl's hand and she ran after it. Without even a second thought he was up and running after the girl. He whistled once and the small owl flew from the cushion in his _terke_ and followed. No one even noticed they had left.

The girl ran, as if carried by the wind, after the paper. It was always just out of her grasp. She kept shouting, "Picture! Picture!" as she ran.

Ahmed followed. She was always just within sight. The owl flew just over his shoulder. They grew closer and closer to the end of the passage. He could see the tomb about two hundred feet up the back wall of the passage. He watched in horror as the girl followed the paper carried by the wind up a path on the back wall that led into the tomb. She disappeared into the mouth of the tomb. He ran a quickly as he could up the path after her and into the tomb without a moments hesitation, knowing what could and very probably was waiting for him, them, inside. But he needed to protect the girl. The owl followed.

Inside there was a strange green light that seemed to illuminate the entire place. Nothing dropped down on him, nothing crunched beneath his feet, nothing swarmed him. Perhaps the stories about the tombs were just that, stories. He ran down the tunnel toward the light. The light grew brighter as he went. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was he had to get to the girl before anything happened to her. Suddenly he was blinded by the brightness of the light. He stopped dead in his tracks. When he could see again, he realized he had emerged into a chamber. The chamber was about twenty feet square. There was a large golden sarcophagus near the back that glimmered in the strange green light. There were statues on either side of the sarcophagus of large, thin birds, ibis', with long beaks that curved inward. There was a golden throne near the right side of the chamber with one large baboon standing guard on one side. It turned to look at him then returned to his guarded position. There was a boat with sails against the left wall large enough for two people. There were large golden statues on either side. One was a man with the head of a hawk wearing a strange crown; the other was a beautiful woman wearing a similar crown. There were large black statues of cats with jeweled collars. And there were other treasures. But he lost interest in everything else in the chamber. That's when he saw the girl.

She was kneeling in the center of the chamber looking upward. And standing before her was a man. He was tall and handsome. More handsome than anyone Ahmed had ever seen. His skin was a glistening bronze. He wore a white pleated kilt with a golden belt, and golden sandals on his feet with golden ribbons that wound around his calves and tied just below his knees. He had a keffiyeh on his head made of gold and blue ribbons but no cord. He had no hair on his body and his skin was smooth and unblemished. There was black paint on where his eyebrows should be and outlining his eyes in the shape of an eye with two black tears running down his cheeks, one straight down from the center the other curved around toward his ear. They were almost exact mirrors of each other. In his right hand the man held the paper the girl had been chasing. He was holding it out for the girl to take. Her hand was outstretched to take it, but had not. Ahmed could not take his eyes of the man.

This was wear the green light was coming from. From this handsome man.

Ahmed walked toward the man and the girl kneeling before him. There was no fear in him at all as he approached. And he too felt compelled to kneel.

"Please," said the man, "as I told her. You need not kneel before me. I am no god, nor am I a king. I am merely a servant carrying out my masters last request."

The man's voice was lyrical and it seemed to sing to Ahmed's heart, mind, and soul. And kept him on his knees. The man outstretched his left hand and Ahmed's owl landed on it. It's huge talons, twice the size of normal owl's, wrapped gently around the man's fingers.

"Beautiful creature, I can see it cares for you. As you care for her. More so even than your own safety." He moved his hand and the bird flew and perched itself on Ahmed's shoulder. "Now, why I have summoned you here." He looked at the girl who finally took the paper from his hand. He looked at Ahmed. "I have been waiting a very long time for you. Before even this land was brought to this dark place. You have been chosen. Chosen to bring the knowledge of the past back to this land, and that beyond, where you believe you are bound this day, and to the lands beyond that. You are the first _Herald_. Others will follow. But you must pave the way for them. The knowledge that I give you," he held out a large tome in his hands. It was thick with a wooden cover, covered in the language written above the tomb, the covers and yellow pages within were held together by cord. "You will not yet understand." Ahmed took the tome from the man. "To aid you in your heralding, I give you this," he placed a necklace around Ahmed's neck. It was a simple gold chain with a small golden ibis pendant. "This is the symbol of the one you now serve. This will show you as His Herald to those of the Green Hand, who at first may believe you defiled this tomb for the knowledge you will bare. They can help you in your travels. I also give you this palette and reed pen," he handed each to Ahmed, "to chronicle all the proceedings of your new traveling companions. Something for protection," he handed Ahmed a red jasper amulet like the black markings over his right eye. "The Utchat will help repel the forces of evil, disruption, destruction, and disorder, among others. This one," he handed Ahmed another Amulet this one of gold, "the Ankh will help protect you from the evil forces of decay and degeneration. And this," he handed Ahmed a wooden staff with a knot at the head and covered in the language over the tomb entrance, "will be your new weapon, for the ones you carry can no longer serve you. This belt," he held out a golden belt similar to his own, "will hold all that you place in it and on it. These sandals," also like his own, "will protect your feet. And this kilt," a white, silken, pleated kilt like the one he wore, "will be all the clothing you will need." He held out a keffiyeh like his own, "and this will cover your head." Last he held out a knee-length, white, silken, pleated cape. "This will protect your body from the elements."

The man now turned to the girl. "For you, a symbol of your following." He placed a necklace around her neck, a simple gold chain with an ibis, just like Ahmed's. "Also a palette and reed pen to help you learn the languages you will need to survive in the other lands. To help protect you," he placed a ring on her finger, a blue lapis scarab. "This will help ward off evil and provide good things in this life and the next. This," he handed her a wooden staff just her size, "will be your weapon, for you will also need to defend yourself and possibly others. This belt," a golden belt just her size, "to hold all that you place in it and on it. These sandals," like his and Ahmed's, "will protect your feet. And a dress," a sleeveless, ankle-length, white, silken, dress with a sheer, pleated outer layer, with golden threads around the neck, armholes and the hem of the outer layer, "will be all the clothing you will need. And this," he handed her a wig of long black hair, which would reach past her shoulders when worn, braided in thick braids, "to wear on your head. Keep your hair short and wear this or let it grow. And a cloak," an ankle-length white, silken, pleated cloak, similar to Ahmed's, "to protect you from the elements. And you may keep the anklet."

"This last leg of your journey with these people will bring you to those you will soon call family. They are strange and unusual and to those who see only with their eyes they will be monsters. Look to the sky, for it will show you the way to them. Your coming will be foretold by someone who sees without eyes. You will be greeted by a giant and a man," he looked down at the girl and smiled, "who has none. A boy with a painted face will appear to lead you to your teacher a man plagued by his beast, Keeper of Lost Secrets, Seeker of Forbidden Lore, and Guardian of the Strange, Unusual, and Monstrous. He will be able to read the language the pages of the tome are written in. For nothing you possess can do this. A man whose skin moves will open your eyes to the Sun and the Moon. The two men who are one with two faces will teach you how to speak. And an old man who is not, selling walking sticks will teach you the ways of the staff.

"Do not bare anything I have given you until you meet them. For those you are with now, will not understand. I will give you both each one last thing, something to carry your new vestments until you are able to wear your new life proudly." He handed Ahmed a large non-descript belt pouch and the girl a small one. "And this last thing," he held out a tomb similar to the one given to Ahmed. "A gift for your teacher.

"Now, return to your caravan. Your friends will be returning as you do. And do not worry they are all fine. They were merely shown the path."

Ahmed and the girl stood and walked from the chamber. As they did, they both placed all the items given them, save the ones they wore, into their pouches. Everything went in, including the staves and looked no different than a simple pouch. They both tied them to their belts and walked into the sunlight.

As they emerged into the light, the glowing green light began to fade. And the handsome man's appearance changed. His beautiful features disappeared and were replaced by that of a desiccated, bandage wrapped mummy, as did the baboon guarding the golden throne. A second baboon, wrapped in bandages emerged from the darkened passage and took its place next to the throne. And dust appeared on all the items in the chamber. The bats hanging from the ceiling of the tomb entry emerged from the darkness above, as did the beetles beneath them emerge from the floor.

"Now, oh revered one, my final task is complete," he said in a raspy voice. "I have passed the knowledge and burden of your teachings on to your new Herald and his follower. Your word will now be heard again in the lands of the living, marking the coming of the rebirth of you and yours. His journey will be long and hard, but his new family will help. Now, I can finally rest in peace." He walked to the sarcophagus and opened it. He got inside and closed it as the chamber went dark.

Ahmed and the girl walked back to the valley where the caravan was camped. They walked into the camp just as Rashid and the others returned with Amsha and the other two who were missing. No one noticed Ahmed and the girl return to camp.

Ahmed and the girl walked over to Amsha. "How are you? What happened to you?" he asked Amsha.

"I'm fine. We stopped here to wait for the caravan. A baboon stole something and ran down the passageway. We went after it. We found the way leads to the other side of the mountain and into Har'Akir. It emerges just south of the eastern road. We retrieved the items, but never caught the baboon."

"You were shown the path," Ahmed said, remembering the handsome man's words.

"I suppose we were."

"Muradin will probably be wanting to leave as soon as everyone is packed up. So perhaps you should get something to eat while you can."

"Yes, now that you mention it, I am rather hungry." She smiled at Ahmed, who returned her smile. A jingling sound made her look down at the girl. Amsha smiled at her and put a hand on her cheek. The girl smiled back.

"Are you two all right?" Amsha asked. "You look a bit, I don't know, distant."

"We're fine. I guess you could say we were also shown the path."

The three walked over to where the camels lay. All of Ahmed's belongings were exactly where they were before the wind summoned them.

Amsha ate while Ahmed packed everything up. Muradin was anxious to move on, but he wasn't pushing.

When everyone was ready they mounted up and moved down the passage leading to Har'Akir. It did not take long with everyone on camels. They emerged into Har'Akir by late afternoon. They moved onto the road and headed for Muhar. Ahmed and the girl looked back. The passage was no longer there. It was as if it only opened for their passing and now that they have been shown the way, the mountain swallowed it up again.

Muradin was no longer in a hurry. They reached Muhar about an hour before sunset. They made camp east of town by the road. Muradin sent several people into town to initiate trade and scout around. Ahmed and the girl were going to go as well with Amsha when Ahmed felt her tug at his aba. He looked down at her and she pointed into the air south of town. He saw something flying in the air.

"'Look to the sky, for it will show you the way to them'," Ahmed quoted the handsome man's words.

Amsha walked up to them. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, but not to go to town," Ahmed replied.

"What do you mean?" Amsha asked.

"You go. We will meet another time. I'm sure of that."

"Well, all right. But is there anything you want me to get you?"

"No, I believe we have everything we will need for now. Goodbye, Amsha." Ahmed kissed her tenderly on the cheek. Amsha seemed a little puzzled. Ahmed had never shown affection before in public.

The girl tugged at Amsha's aba. When Amsha looked down at the girl, she motioned for Amsha to lean down. The girl then gave her a kiss on the cheek also. This puzzled Amsha even more. She looked into Ahmed's eyes and saw a sadness there she had never seen before.

Ahmed walked over and got his camel, Naheer, and went toward where he had seen what flew in the air. As he passed Amsha he pulled out the handkerchief she had given him and held it out to her.

Amsha was pale. She realized that he and the girl were leaving. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Don't cry. We will meet again."

"Keep it," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "To remember me by."

"I need no object to remember you. I will never forget you. But this is not forever." He removed his scimitar from his belt and handed it to her. "You take this, where I am going, I will have no need of it." She took the scimitar from him and watched as he and the girl walked away.

Rashid noticed her crying and came over to her. "What is it?"

"Ahmed is leaving us."

Rashid looked in the direction Amsha looked and noticed Ahmed and the girl walking away, camel in tow.

"Where are they going?"

"I don't know," she looked down at Ahmed's scimitar in her hand. "But wherever it is, he will not need a weapon."

Rashid put a comforting hand around her shoulder. They both looked after Ahmed and the girl and watched until they passed out of sight.

The sun was setting as Ahmed and the girl passed out of Muhar's city limits at the southern part of town. Camped just outside of town was a Carnival. There was a lot of activity in the camp. Torches and campfires burned all over camp. He heard people speak and could not understand them. So he cast a spell. They walked up to the gates and were met by two men. One man was a giant of a man, standing 10 feet tall with long, awkward limbs. The other man was tall and wiry with his lip curled into a smirk wearing a black top hat and a black and gray suit with a flowing black cape, making him look a bit morbid.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the giant. "We are packing up to leave."

"'You will be greeted by a giant'," Ahmed quoted the handsome man, "'and a man'," Ahmed paused and looked down at the girl. He noticed the man cast no shadow, "with no shadow." He smiled down at the girl, his shadow. "I am expected. 'A boy with a painted face will appear'," just then the boy stepped from behind the giant.

Both the giant and the gentleman with no shadow looked to the boy.

"You were foretold of my coming 'by someone who sees without eyes.'"

"Madame Fortuna?" the giant asked. The boy looked at him, unblinking. "Then he will be leaving with us?" The boy still looked at him. "Very well, I am Hermos. And this gentleman 'with no shadow' is Tindal. And the boy is called the Familiar. He is one of the Skurra, our Vistani. They do not speak."

"I am Ahmed the Herald and this," he put a hand on the girl's shoulder, "is my shadow. She does not understand or speak our language. And the Skurra do speak, with their music." Ahmed remembered his dream. The one he had the night before entering Sebua, of strange people with painted faces playing strange music that spoke to his soul, and a child that followed him like a shadow.

The boy's expression did not change, despite Ahmed knowing about the Skurra's music. The boy pointed to the camel.

"I will take it to the Organ Grinder," Hermos said. Ahmed handed Hermos the reins.

"And tell the Organ Grinder the camel's name is Naheer and there is an owl, named Borath, in the pillow of the _terke_, that is the saddle."

"All right," said Hermos. "And we do have one here who is very good with languages."

"'The two men who are one with two faces'," Ahmed quoted.

"Yes, that would be Claude and the Imp," Tindal said, curiously. "For someone who has just arrived, you know a lot about us."

"We were foretold of you, also."

"Really?" Tindal asked. "I will find a place for you two to ride while we travel to our next location," said Tindal. The boy looked up at Tindal. "No need? Very well, I will inform Mistress Isolde we have two people leaving with us." The Familiar continued to look at him. "Already taken care of too?" The boy did not blink. "Very well." He turned to Ahmed and the girl. "Welcome to Carnival."

"Thank you," Ahmed said.

The Familiar held out his hand for Ahmed. Ahmed took it. "You are to lead me 'to the Keeper of Lost Secrets, Seeker of Forbidden Lore, and Guardian of the Strange, Unusual, and Monstrous.'" The boy took a step.

Hermos and Tindal both looked at each other. "Professor Arcanus."

The three walked through the midway passing Skurra and Trouper alike. They passed a gaunt man wearing a loincloth who watched while they passed. His body was covered in tattoos. But these were no ordinary tattoos. They seemed to swim across his body as if alive. "'A man whose skin moves will open your eyes to the Sun and the Moon.'" The man nodded to Ahmed and the girl. Ahmed returned the nod, the girl mimicked.

They passed another man, an ancient looking man who moved with an unusual nimbleness dispite his ancient appearance. He was packing up staves and walking sticks into the back of a vardo. He paused to watch the three passed. "'And an old man who is not, selling walking sticks will teach you the ways of the staff.'" The man returned to his work.

A woman walked by in pair of skin-tight breeches and snug fitting shirt that showed off her curves. She had short raven hair, porcelain skin and large bat wings. "'Look to the sky, for it will show you the way.'" Ahmed nodded to the lovely woman as she passed. She smiled at him.

The Familiar led Ahmed and the girl to a large tent that was being broken down. Next to the deflated tent was a vardo. On the side of the vardo it said: 'Professor Arcanus' Menagerie of the Macabre! And Hall of Horrors!' Two Skurra men hung a sign, saying the same thing, onto rungs under the vardo's roof while two others loaded a second vardo with other unusual things. The Familiar led Ahmed and the girl past the Skurra and directly to a well dressed gentlemen with a cape, and carrying a ruby-headed cane. A small Skurra man stood by his side. He had a note pad and a pen, and was marking things off as they were placed into the vardo.

"Ah, Familiar," the gentlemen said. He looked to Ahmed and the girl. "And you must be the two Madame Fortuna told me was coming." Ahmed bowed low. "I am Professor Arcanus, Keeper of Lost Secrets, Seeker, of…"

"'Forbidden Lore, and Guardian of the Strange, Unusual, and Monstrous,'" Ahmed finished. Arcanus looked surprised. "I am Ahmed the Herald and she," he put his hand on the girls shoulder, "is my shadow. I was told of you as well."

Arcanus smiled. "I see my reputation proceeds me." He looked to the Familiar, "thank you, I'll take it from here." The Familiar released Ahmed's hand then seemed to disappear into the crowd of people. Arcanus looked at the girl then to Ahmed. "This," Arcanus motioned to the small Skurra man with the checklist, "is Runt, my Skurra assistant. Is she your daughter? She looks like you."

Ahmed looked down at the girl and smiled. "I suppose I have adopted her. She does not speak or understand any languages other than her own."

"Well, the Imp can help with that."

"Yes, we know." Ahmed opened the pouch on his belt and thought about the book of 'knowledge' he was given and he felt a book. He pulled it out. "I was told you could read this."

Arcanus held out his hands and Ahmed gave him the book. Arcanus looked at the tome, the thick book with a wooden cover, covered in the ancient language of the Akiri. His face went pale.

"Is something wrong?"

"Do you know what this is?" Arcanus stammered.

"It is knowledge given to me by my new master. I have been chosen. 'Chosen to bring the knowledge of the past back to this land, and that beyond. I am the first _Herald._ Others will follow, but I must pave the way for them. A boy with a painted face will appear to lead me to my teacher, Keeper of Lost Secrets, Seeker of Forbidden Lore, and Guardian of the Strange, Unusual, and Monstrous. For he will be able to read the language the pages of the tome are written in. For nothing I possess can do this'," Ahmed recited.

"This is written in the ancient language of the Akiri."

"And once of Sebua the domain next to this."

Arcanus looked at the book again and slowly translated the language. "These are the Tenants and Teachings of the Heralds of Thoth, God of Wisdom, Time, Magic, Writing and the Moon." Arcanus noticed the necklace around Ahmed's neck. "And that is his symbol." The Skurra, Runt, moved over to see what caught his master's attention.

"A symbol of the one I now serve, to show that I am his Herald."

The girl jingled the bells on her ankle. Arcanus looked down at her. She held out her necklace too.

"Yes, and you as well." Arcanus nodded.

"You will teach me this language then?" Ahmed asked.

"I thought this was all just a joke. I didn't really believe Madame Fortuna when she told me you were coming. Even though I knew her words were true. She truly can see."

"'She who can see without eyes'," Ahmed quoted. "You will teach me this language then?" Ahmed repeated.

"Yes," Arcanus whispered, looking in amazement at the ancient tome in his hands.

"And this," Ahmed put his hand in his pouch again and thought of the gift and removed it, "last thing," he held out a tome similar to the one Arcanus already held. "A gift for you, my teacher."

Arcanus looked at the tome in Ahmed's hands, similar to the tome of the Tenets and Teachings of the Heralds of Thoth and nearly dropped it. The girl jumped to catch it if it fell. Arcanus went pale. He placed one hand atop the tome. "And this," he paused, "is the Book of the Dead. The real Book of the Dead. I have a charlatan's copy. But this…"

"Is for you."

"But why? You did not need to give this to me. Your tenets would have been enough to sate my arcane interests."

"What are gifts? And why are they given?" Ahmed said.

"Yes," Arcanus said with a warm smile, "shall we enter my vardo and I will help you with you tenets." He motioned them to his vardo.

Hermos' voice could be heard through out the camp, despite his soft-spoken nature. "Are we all ready? Sound off."

The last of Professor Arcanus' things and that of the menagerie and hall of horrors was put away and the doors closed.

The Runt then struck a bell on the side of the wagon and moved to get into the seat of Professor Arcanus' personal wagon. One of the four Skurra helping jumped onto the seat next to the Runt and took the reins. Two of the remaining Skurra jumped into the seat of the menagerie's vardo.

Voices, bells and gongs sounded all over the camp. When silence reigned, Hermos called out, "All right then, move out everyone." Then he entered a cloth-covered vardo. The Carnival then began to move. They gathered into a line and before the first vardo, a mist formed. Then they passed into the mist and were gone.

The End

A/N: Well, there it is. The next installment of my Carnival stories. The Ravenloft cannon characters before reaching Carnival are mine except Sheikh Allahn el Rashaan, but you probably remember them from the first section. In Carnival, all are Ravenloft cannon except the "old man who is not," he's mine.


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